“A human being is a part of the whole called by us universe, a part limited in time and space. He experiences himself, his thoughts and feeling as something separated from the rest, a kind of optical delusion of his consciousness. This delusion is a kind of prison for us, restricting us to our personal desires and to affection for a few persons nearest to us. Our task must be to free ourselves from this prison by widening our circle of compassion to embrace all living creatures and the whole of nature in its beauty.”
Albert Einstein
There are so many innocents in the world who are reliant on our compassion and empathy.
These feelings and thoughts came into my life, because I have or had squirrels in my house. One was sitting on the kitchen counter. Next to the microwave and Dominic’s dog food container. Dominic wasn’t impressed. Nor was I. I don’t want them in my house. They can be destructive.
I’m live trapping them. I’ve caught three. I felt that it was more humane. They get to live.
I put the trap under the sink. Sunflower seeds are my bait.
Dominic and the rattling in the cage lets me know when I've caught a critter.
The two words, ‘their home’ bothered me. My trailer and yard were the squirrels’ homes.
I put the squirrel and cage into the back of my truck and drove about 18 Kilometres. I felt sad. I couldn’t help it.
Maybe the memory of my loss has made me more sensitive. More compassionate. I don’t know, but the poor little fella had a home and now he was being tossed into exile. And besides, the squirrels, when they live outside my home, are entertaining and they make my isolated world feel friendlier and cozier.
I let him out along the side of a county road where there was a street light to illuminate his way. He or she probably didn’t need the illumination. However, it made me feel better. How nuts is that?
I don’t think I’m being overly anthropomorphic here. Besides, I like using that big word. Anthropomorphic. Anthropomorphic.
The second squirrel that I caught, I drove thirty Kilometres, over very icy roads. It meant that I drove a total of sixty kilometres.
A friend tried to make me feel better by saying that the squirrels would put their energy into finding their way back home. This would give them hope. A goal to work towards. The courage to carry on. I’ll buy that.
It was late at night, so I decided to wait until morning before I called the squirrel a cab and sent him on his way.
The next morning when I picked up the cage, I saw that the squirrel’s nose was all bloodied up and there was blood splattered around the cage. Poor little bugger.
I dropped him off close to the river and wished him well.
On the way to town, I began to think about where I had dropped the squirrel off. The landscape was quarry like, with a road on one side and the river on the other. The land didn’t look like a good location for the squirrel to settle down on, so I began questioning my site choice.
This gives me hope that they are resilient, tough-minded survivors. It also gives me hope that I have found their magic port hole.
I imagine that there are many words that can almost describe my feelings for the animals that I love and who live in the wilds, or like Dominic, live with me.
However, I still sit down to a roast beef meal and think little of it. So, I can say that, for most people, our morals and compassion and beliefs come from a universe of chaos.
I think this is true, but maybe, because I’ve seen some evidence that there are more dimensions than the past, the present and the future, that what appears absurd and contradictory, might not be.
Here’s hoping.